


sense of home

by lupescx



Series: can't wake up [2]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, Kissing, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 12:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupescx/pseuds/lupescx
Summary: Six weeks after moving into Jace’s apartment, and Simon finally understands what it means to be domestic.





	sense of home

**Author's Note:**

> i could have made this longer but i wrote it at midnight so oh well

Six weeks after moving into Jace’s apartment, and Simon finally understands what it means to be domestic. Before Simon, Jace had filled his space with— well, not much. He preferred a minimalist approach, keeping his walls white and beige, his kitchen clean, and his bedroom bare. Although, Simon did have to give him some credit for the singular blue pillow on his sofa, which offered a splash of color to the otherwise muted surroundings. 

 

In other words, it’s absolutely nothing like how Simon lives. 

 

Simon, although organized, has a very love-hate relationship with clutter. He likes to fill his space with things that give him joy. His old room, back with his mother, had been littered with things like action figures and books and knickknacks. It had been filled with color, with vibrancy, with _life._

 

Jace does not relate. So when Simon arrived to occupy the two-bedroom apartment, he knew things would have to change. 

 

He still remembers the look on Jace’s face, when he’d dropped his bags in the living room and announced, “Your interior decorating skills are trash.”

 

A scoff, and then scorn. “Like yours are any better? I’ve seen your bedroom, and believe me, I wasn’t impressed either,” Jace had replied. 

 

“Yeah, well, I _distinctly_ remember that my house had just been ransacked by _a psychopath_ , and I had been dying. Didn’t really have time for a spring cleaning, Jace.” Simon retorted.

 

Jace had rolled his eyes, and let it go. 

 

When Simon settled in, things had progressed interestingly. Jace and Simon clashed a lot, usually over stupid things, like what to order for takeout, or which movie to watch, or if dinosaurs had feathers and _of course aliens exist, are you serious, Jace?_

 

They settled into a tandem of having silly arguments that always ended up okay, usually resulting in a half-baked compromise and an apology disguised as a joke. 

 

After two weeks of living together, Simon finally summoned the courage to ask Jace a very serious question. 

 

“Can I paint my room?” 

 

And Jace had just looked up, narrowed his eyes, and just when Simon thought he was going to be rejected, he nodded and said, “Sure.”

 

So began the quest to make Jace’s apartment feel less like a museum and more like a home. 

 

Simon had gone to Lowe’s, picked out a pretty shade of blue, and turned his bland bedroom walls into something beautiful. Even Jace seemed impressed. 

 

Taking his approval as a sign to continue, Simon slowly filled his shelves with books and random objects he thought were cool. By the third week, Simon asked Jace yet another very serious question.

 

“Can I paint the living room? It’s boring as hell,” he’d said. 

 

Jace made a face. “You don’t like beige?”

 

Simon had chosen his next words carefully. “I like beige,” he began, “but don’t you think it would be nice to have some variety? You can even choose the color, as long as it isn’t brown or grey or any other color not seen on the rainbow.”

 

Jace looked hesitant, even pensive. He ceded. “Okay,” he replied, “but I get to choose.”

 

That’s how both of them ended up at a department store, scouring the paint isle. Jace, unsurprisingly, had not been the most cooperative person.

 

“We are _not_ painting our living room chartreuse.” Simon had said, because there was no chance in hell that he was going to let Jace, actual human disaster, paint the walls the color of vomit.

 

“Watching HGTV does not make you an expert, Lewis. And you said it was _my_ turn to decide,” Jace had huffed. 

 

“There is a difference between letting you make your own decisions, and letting you ruin the beautiful home we have created together,” Simon replied. 

 

Then, a color caught his eye. Carefully, he pulled it out of its slot. He showed it to Jace. “How about this one?” 

 

It was a soft, golden shade. It would go nicely against the pale blinds, and in the daytime, the sunlight would make the whole room glow. 

 

“It matches your eyes,” Simon persuaded. He had watched Jace’s expression soften, watched his pupils dilate. He watched, but didn’t know what it meant. 

 

They bought the paint. And boy, did that room glow. 

 

Over the next few months, trips to Ikea and art galleries littered their time, and before they knew it, the entire apartment was filled with color and beauty and not necessarily clutter, but a sense of completeness that hadn’t been there before.

 

Now, looking around at what they had created, Simon’s chest expands. They made this. They had taken something uninspired and turned up the saturation. It has a sense of home. This is no longer Jace’s apartment. This is their apartment. 

 

A jangle of keys pulls Simon out of his reverie. Six months in, and their apartment is whole. But Simon still feels like something is missing. 

 

Jace opens the front door, and Simon spins around to greet him. He can’t help but smile. 

 

“You’re home,” he says. The word holds weight, now. 

 

“Excellent observation, Simon,” Jace quips as he walks inside.

 

Simon’s heart jumps at the sound of his name. When had that started? 

 

Jace moves over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. Over the past weeks, Simon’s come to understand some of Jace’s rituals. Cleanliness is one of them.

“So,” Simon begins, standing awkwardly in the center of the apartment, on the line that divides the living room from the kitchen. He doesn’t know why he feels nervous. “I was just thinking,”

 

Jace hums in response, drying his hands on a towel. 

 

“We’ve become rather domestic,” he says, and honestly, he has no idea what he’s about to say next. He pulls a wild card from his mental deck of things to discuss, and _wow,_ was that a bad idea. 

 

“I think we should get married,” Simon announces. Jace freezes, looking up. He looks genuinely shocked. 

 

_Great going, Simon._

 

“What,” Jace starts, his tone careful, “makes you say that?” 

 

Simon realizes the hole he’s dug himself into. It would be so easy to say, _just kidding!_

 

But, no, he has to ramble. “Well, you know, we live together, and we’ve made a pretty great space out of here, and we spend a lot of time together and I enjoy your company, and I’m pretty sure you enjoy mine too, and most people assume we’re a couple anyways, and sometimes I look into your eyes and they’re just, quite honestly, the prettiest thing in the world, and this is coming from nowhere but I really, really like you and I am so sorry that this is how you’re finding out, but yeah,” Simon is out of breath, and _when did Jace get this close?_

 

“Yes,” Jace says, softly.

 

Hold up. 

 

“What?” Simon replies, and he shakes his head. 

 

Jace looks amused. “I said yeah,” he murmurs. His hand comes up to brush against Simon’s arm. Simon’s brain shuts down. 

 

“You can’t,” Simon’s splutters, and Jace raises an eyebrow. “You’re joking.” 

 

“If I were joking,” Jace says, tracing his hand along Simon’s wrist. He comes to a stop, and holds it in place. “Would I do this? 

 

He leans forward and alarms are going off in Simon’s head because this is happening so fast and what is going on and— and,

 

Jace kisses Simon. 

 

Everything else washes away. Thoughts of doubt dissipate and all Simon knows are Jace’s hands circling around his waist, Jace’s mouth hot on his. Simon wraps his hands around Jace’s neck. 

 

Jace is murmuring something into the kiss, and Simon pulls back, just enough. He presses their foreheads together. 

 

“You want this?” Jace says, meeting Simon’s eyes.

 

“Yes,” Simon replies. He sighs. “We’re so domestic,” 

 

Jace smirks. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

 

“It’s not,” Simon replies, hastily. “I just didn’t expect this.”

 

Jace pulls away. “Me neither,” he admits. “but I realized I didn’t want to ever see you leave.” 

 

Simon still feels the whiplash of this turn of events, but it’s slowly fading into something settled.He’s still confused as hell. Still doesn’t understand how quickly Jace had taken the initiative. Still can’t comprehend that he agreed to _marry_ Simon.

 

But if Simon’s learned anything over the course of their relationship, it’s that Jace is full of surprises. 

 

“I’m still not convinced this isn’t an elaborate joke, but okay.” Simon finally says. 

 

Jace actually snorts. “Ye of little faith. Let me persuade you,” and then he’s kissing Simon again.

 

And Simon finally realizes that it’s not just the paint and furniture and art that makes this place a home. It’s Jace. 


End file.
